Hurt or Unhurt? Too Slow-Game Over
by PuppetPainter
Summary: I, Oliver Wood, have helplessly fell in love with my rival, Marcus Flint, Slytherin. Too many reasons are placed for my love and my hate: evil, but well-mannered; horrible grades, but a pure genius; handsome, but with a dangerous look. This is our story, a story about love, about betrayal. This is our Quiditch game, a ga,e for the heart. Flint x Wood, (Flintwood) Harry Potter
1. Chapter One: Charlie, Percival, Marcus

I am Oliver Wood, First Year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have blue eyes, brown hair, and skin a bit lighter than what most men would prefer. I have pleasing grades, if you ask me, even though they're probably not well enough for some people, but just for me, they're pretty good. I share a dorm with Percival Ignatius Weasley, a.k.a Percy Weasley. He's the "some people" I'm talking about. He wants to be the prefect when he gets to his fifth year.

I love flying. More accurately, I love _Quiditch_. Quiditch is my life. I grew up watching Quiditch matches, and I'll die in a Quiditch match. I don't want to be a Seeker—I know very well what I want to be: a Keeper. I'll be Captain of the Quiditch team for whatever House I'm in one day.

One day.

"Hi, I'm Percival Ignatius Weasley. Who're you?" That's how I first met Percy. At this point, I still thought that was how he would like me to call him: Percival Ignatius Weasley. I stared at him, his red bangs curling around his freckles and pale skin.

"Um…Oliver Wood?" I replied, glancing at him. His robes didn't cover his feet. But I could tell he was Pure-Blood despite his conditions. Didn't seem like a Muggle. Muggles aren't bad, but they don't seem too familiar with magic. Especially when I had just accidentally made my cage disappear by accident, allowing my owl to fly off in front of him. Oh well.

"Charlie! Charlie! Charlie!" two boys chanted. They looked exactly like Percival Ignatius Weasley, but younger, like 9 or 10. I bet they were twins. Following close behind was a young boy that looked about 7 or 8, and an even younger girl, probably 6.

"Congratulations, dear. Quiditch Captain! Oh, imagine! And prefect!" a plump woman with flaming red hair said.

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter. Quiditch Captain; now _that_ ' _s_ something!" one of the twins stated.

 _Quiditch Captain_? I looked at Percival Ignatius Weasley, whose face had gone a bit red. He glanced at me, then sighed.

"Yeah, that's my older brother, Charlie Weasley. Got elected to be Quiditch Captain this year. He's a Seeker," Percy grumped. My eyes widened.

"Really?" _If that's the case, maybe being friends with this Percival Ignatius Weasley would get me into the sight of Charlie Weasley faster! Maybe I'll happen to be in his House, and then…I could get in the team!_

"Yeah. Hey, uh, do you want to get on the train?" Percival Ignatius Weasley lugged his trunk up the train, glancing at my cart. "Want a hand?"

"Yes, please." I peered at my baggage, grinning awkwardly. Percival came down the train and helped me load up some trunks.

"Hey Percy!" an older male's voice rang out. I turned my head. _Charlie!_

"Hi, I'm Oliver Wood, pleased to meet you!" I said, sticking out my head and tipping my head down. Charlie laughed good-naturally. He grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously.

"I hope you can take care of Percy. He's a little bit stubborn sometimes, but I think you'll find him a good friend! I also think he'll allow you to call him Percy. If he doesn't, you can call him that anyways. Don't listen to the _'Percival Ignatius Weasley'_ rubbish."

"Charlie!" Percy shouted, his ears red.

"Yes, sir!" I replied, a smile on my face. _I shook hands with the one of the Quiditch Captains!_

"Percy," Charlie said. "You've got something on your nose." He gave him a handkerchief, and Percy rolled his eyes.

"Who gave it to you?" Percy asked. "Tonks?"

"No. To be frank, I have no idea who gave it to me, only that it was a girl." A train whistle blew, and Charlie lifted his head up. "I got to go now. See you two later!"

"So…Percival…" I stammered, watching Charlie leave.

"Percy," Percy said.

"Hmm?"

"Percy's fine. Just don't go around telling people what Charlie said."

"Okay. Um…how many people are in your family?" I asked, watching the two twins yell at Charlie through the window. Percy rolled his eyes.

"Nine. Ginny is the youngest, followed by Ronald, who we all call Ron, and then there are the twins, Fred and George, then older than me is Charlie, and then last of all is Bill. That's six. Then there's my mum and my dad."

"Oh, that's big." I peered out the window again, watching the corner of Charlie's clothes sweep into the car, and from the end of the train where our car was located I heard a yell of, "Charlie! Yeah, man!"

"Popular?" I asked.

"Very." Percy pulled out his lunch. I couldn't tell what it was, except that it didn't look very moist. It seemed dry.

"Corned beef. I like it about as much as Ron does." Percy stuffed the thing back into his bag.

"Does he like it very much?" I questioned, watching as Percy tried to fish something else out of his bag.

"No. He hates it. Scabbers!" Percy suddenly dived for a the blur of gray that had leaped out of his bag. The compartment door opened. The rat (or what I assumed was a rat) charged for the exit, and unluckily smashed itself onto the head of someone's black leather shoe.

A hand reached down and plucked the rat up by the tail. The hand dropped the rat into Percy's hands.

My eyes reached a boy's face.

His eyes were grey, his hair black, and his skin was a nice tan. I gulped. The perfect model. If he were to survive in the Muggle world he would definitely be a Muggle model.

"Can I sit here?" he asked. I nodded. He looked like he was going into Slytherin—but he wouldn't turn bad. Maybe he was arrogant, but whoever his parents were, they had trained his manners well.

I nodded, moving over so the boy could sit. There was only one bag with him, compared to my…um…was it three or four…trunks.

"Are you also First Year?" Percy asked. The boy shook his head.

"Stayed a year. Felt like the grades weren't keeping up. Only that they were too high in some and too low in some." The boy glanced at me. "What's your name?"

"Oliver. Oliver Wood. Yours?" I said.

"Marcus Flint. Slytherin House."

"Percival Ignatius Weasley," Percy said. Marcus looked at him.

"I know you. Your brother's always talking about you. You're the brains of the family. Your two younger brothers are the clowns. Your younger sister is the flower. Bill is the monster. And your second-youngest brother…"

"He doesn't have any talents except that he knows how to play chess," Percy quickly picked up. "Yeah, I know. Pure-blood, aren't you?"

"Yeah. What about you?"

"Me?" I asked, watching Percy and Marcus' eyes glance over. "What about Percy?"

Percy sighed. "Me, isn't it? Our whole family is Pure-blooded, only mum's second cousin that's twice removed or something or that sort is a Muggle. Can't really count him, haven't ever even heard mum talk about him. Now, Oliver, what about you?"

"Half-blood. My father's a Muggle and my mother's a witch. Both came to Hogwarts, but now they both want to stay in the Muggle world."

The door was pulled open again.

"Anything off the carts, dears?" the lady asked. I eyed the cart, carefully deciding. There were five Chocolate Frogs, two Pumpkin Pastries, and…

"I would like the Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans."

Percy glanced at us nervously, and the lady's eyebrows came together.

"Oh dear, there's only one left. Would you two boys care to share?" she asked, handing the box over. Marcus glanced at me, and I nodded. He took the box, paying one Sickle and three Knuts. I bought the rest of the deserts, knowing that we were the last, and there would be no one else wanting the things.

"Have this," I said, handing a Pumpkin Pastry to Percy, "for otherwise you'll have no food the rest of the way." I glanced over at Marcus. He looked at me, a smile coming over his lips.

Not a smile—a _smirk_.

"Gryffindor."

"What?" I asked.

"You'll be in Gryffindor. I know it. It was nice being friends with you." Marcus stood up, tossing me the box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "Keep this as a token of our short friendship."

He opened the door.

"And you should start changing, Oliver Wood. I'll remember you."

The door closed.

 _I'll remember you too, Marcus Flint._


	2. Chapter Two: You, Me and the Nimbus 1998

I stared at the grounds. Something started thumping in my chest. It was my second year at Hogwarts. I was in Gryffindor, and I was the Keeper of the Gryffindor Quiditch team.

"Flint!" some guy from the Slytherin side called out. I gulped.

The reason for my anxiety was because I had to face Marcus Flint. Over the past year, I had tried to untangle the ball of twisted yarn feelings, and had successfully reached a conclusion: Nothing.

Nothing. I don't know anything. I don't understand. His name is like a rock, for each time I hear it, it seems to drop my heart.

"Oliver?"

"Oliver?"

"Huh?" I turned around, coming face-to-face with Percy. "Oh, hey, Perce."

"Hmm. You seemed perplexed. Are you fine?" Percy asked, staring at me. All of a sudden, the other side of the grounds ripped apart with cheering and I swiveled around, just to see Marcus Flint come out fourth of seven people.

Our eyes met.

"Oliver, we're up!" Charlie called. I swallowed again. I grabbed my Nimbus 1998 and stepped out into the field.

"Go Oliver!" some girl shouted. I saw Marcus' eyes narrow. Uh-oh.

"Everyone at their posts?" Madam Hooch asked. Charlie counted us silently, and nodded. The Slytherin Captain counted his players, and then nodded too.

My eyes flickered onto Marcus' broomstick.

Also a Nimbus 1998.

Huh.

The whistle sounded.

All fifteen brooms leapt up into the air and immediately the balls were put into play. A Slytherin Chaser, a girl, immediately took the Quaffle and charged at me. Marcus flew aside her and another boy shouted, "Pass the Quaffle!" The girl didn't seem to notice, until someone in the Gryffindor stands shouted, "Charlie!"

Charlie flew directly at the girl, and she dropped the Quaffle as he twirled right by her, the end of her broomstick no longer steady. Something gold caught my eye as Charlie chased after it.

The Snitch!

"Marcus!" the girl shouted, and I saw Marcus Flint fly towards the left goal, the Quaffle in his hand, ready to shoot. I took a deep breath.

And then…

I was falling.

People started screaming.

My vision started getting blurry.

Madam Hooch blew the whistle and stopped the game.

 _I had been hit by a Bludger._

"Lucky you are, almost could've died!" Percy said. I sighed as another person walked behind me and asked if I was okay. I rubbed my head, the bandage around it scratchy.

"Yeah," I sniffed. "Good thing Charlie caught the Snitch fast after I went to Madam Pomfrey though. What was the score again?"

"I think you've really became dumb. This is the fourth time I've told you! It was 170-30. Gryffindor won by 140 points."

"Hmm. Right." I sniffed again. "Um, Perce, where's my broomstick? Don't think you've ever mentioned it."

"I guess what's to come is to come," Percy said. He looked at me. Or rather…behind me. I turned around, and saw Charlie standing behind me, his face contorted in what seemed like guilt and uneasiness.

I didn't feel right.

"Charlie?" I asked.

"It broke. When you got hit, your broomstick fell to the ground. The Bludger smashed right into it."

My face went pale.

"It what?" I asked, bolting up. The Great Hall went silent. Everyone stopped eating and looked at me and Charlie.

"I'm so terribly sorry, Oliver," Charlie said, "I wish…I wish I could do something about it, but even Professor Quirell couldn't fix it, neither could Professor Flitwick…" I couldn't hear him. My mind buzzed and my eyes kept on focusing and un-focusing.

Then I hit the floor again.

 _My Nimbus 1998…!_

When I woke up in the hospital wing again, Madam Pomfrey was standing over me.

"I let you go for less than two hours, and then you come back to me again. Are you being serious with me, Wood?"

"Sorry, ma'am." I couldn't focus on Madam Pomfrey's scolding though—all I could think of was my broken Nimbus 1998.

I could buy one, for sure easily, with all the money I have, but the game match with Hufflepuff is within the next two weeks. The broomstick would definitely not arrive before then. If I don't have that long handle at the back …I can't guard the three hoops well. I felt Madam Pomfrey tap my shoulder.

"There's a gift for you here, from a Slytherin. Rarely ever seen Slytherins care so much about Gryffindors. I'll leave you now," she said, "but I don't want to see you out of your bed or hurt again."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, my eyes wide. The shape and the size of this parcel…could it be? I unwrapped it, my hands shaking, but it was true. I felt the slick mahogany handle slide smoothly beneath my fingers. The hairs were smoothly brushed. There was a note inside the parcel.

I took it out.

It read:

 _Don't need this anymore, but don't break it._

 _P.S.: We would've won, if Charlie hadn't caught the Snitch while everyone was still coming over the shock of you falling._

I smiled to myself.

It was from Marcus Flint. I knew it.

Two weeks later, when I went to watch the Slytherin practice (while other Slytherins were looking at me weirdly), I noticed that Marcus Flint had a new broomstick. My hand slid over the Nimbus 1998, watching as he took out a Cleansweep 6.

Cleansweeps are nice, but they aren't nicer than Nimbuses.

A smile formed on my face.

HI GUYS~~~

I'M PUPPETPAINTER, AND I HAVE RETURNED, MWHAHAHAHA~~~~!

I HOPE THAT EVERYONE HAVE ENJOYED THE IRST TWO CHAPTERS SO FAR. BREAK HAS BEEN REALLY NICE TO ME (SO FAR) SO I'LL TRY TO POST AS MUCH AS I CAN OVER THE COURSE OF THE NEXT THREE WEEKS. THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING ME! REVIEW TO HELP ME, PLS!


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